


Moving In

by Flamebyrd



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Navel-Gazing, bruce banner is always angry, gratuitous pop culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:11:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebyrd/pseuds/Flamebyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Avengers move into Stark Tower one by one, and Bruce explores what it means to be always angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving In

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to **kiyoshi_chan** and **quettalinde** for the beta, and to everyone who commented when I posted the first drafts of each part on my journal.

**Iron Man**

Tony Stark had spared no expense on the Stark Tower repairs — not even on the parts that hadn't needed refurbishing. The promised ten floors of R&D were gleaming with new equipment… and devoid of human operators, giving it a sterile, almost unreal look. The whiteboards were clean, the desks clear of papers, the books neatly arranged on the shelves, and the trash cans conspicuously empty.

Bruce contemplated asking Stark for another tour, once his engineers had got themselves settled again. It would disturb him less.

Stark paused outside a door that seemed heavily reinforced compared to the others. "And this one is your lab."

Bruce paused. " _My_ lab?"

"I took over the design specifically. I think I got everything you'll need but if you want something else just let someone know."

"Stark. Why do I have a lab?"

Stark gave him an impatient look. "SHIELD says I can have a copy of the Tessaract data _only_ if I analyse it thoroughly and write a report on it. I volunteered you."

"You… I…." Bruce shook his head in disbelief. These were not the kind of decisions he liked having sprung on him.

"I'm still working on them about the alien technology, but I'm sure Fury will come around to my point of view." Stark waved his arm vaguely in the direction of the door and it unlocked obediently. "Come on, let me show you all the cool stuff I put in here."

Bruce stepped through the doorway and just stared. When he said no expense was spared, Stark hadn't been lying.

The center of the room was occupied by one of the transparent screens Stark was so fond of. Stark waved his hand to turn it on, and pulled up some diagrams with a few quick gestures. "These are the specs for all the equipment here." He swiped his fingers a few inches from the screen, and the image reversed so that Bruce could read it.

Behind the screen, the faint blue glow of the arc reactor under Stark's shirt made Bruce pause in his involuntary admiration of the design.

"Rumour has it you created a new element for that," he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Stark's chest.

Stark looked torn between pride and annoyance at the change of subject. "Not exactly, but close enough. Stick around and maybe I'll let you see it."

Bruce weighed up his options for a moment. Take a train to somewhere very far away and hope he could lose the attention of SHIELD (not very likely); try to take a plane out of the country (also not very likely, thanks to SHIELD); steal a car, drive to Mexico or Canada and sneak across the border in the middle of the night (see: tailed by SHIELD).

Or join Stark Industries as a researcher. Science or _not_ having to work with Tony Stark? He had a contrary urge to say no anyway, but science won.

Science would _always_ win.

"All right, Stark. You've got me." He wouldn't insult Stark's intelligence by pointing out Bruce was a liability. Stark had enough evidence to make his own decisions on that front — and from what Bruce could see in the design, he'd taken it into account.

Stark rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. By the way, you're now officially an employee of Stark Industries. The contract is in your inbox." He paused. "Oh, and you have a bedroom suite upstairs. I'll take you there next."

"Really," said Bruce flatly.

"You did save my life. I figure it's the least I can do."

Bruce didn't bother trying to disclaim responsibility. _Evidence continues to point to controlled change resulting in more rational monster_ , he had written in his notebook. He didn't know why the other guy had chosen to save Iron Man, but he was forming some theories. If only the raw data wasn't so… risky to gather.

"Thanks." Bruce paused as Stark looked smug. "I think."

—

Bruce liked working with Tony Stark, because it was _so easy_ to be angry around him.

By rights he should be grateful. He had a roof over his head, clean food and water, and access to a frankly unbelievable amount of technology. Even a job dependent on the whims of Tony Stark was more than he'd ever imagined he'd have again.

But anger was what Bruce did best. And Tony Stark was possibly the most annoying man on the planet.

Case in point: the way he burst into Bruce's lab unannounced and talked about absolutely everything — Pepper, Rhodey, the Avengers Initiative, his latest round of improvements to the Iron Man armour — except the reason he was there.

Currently, Stark was peering at one of the monitors attached to Bruce's secondary simulation from the previous night, hitting the keyboard to change between screens and occasionally gesturing to change the angle of the visualisation. "I'm just looking, carry on," he said, waving a hand dismissively.

Bruce decided to take him at his word and returned to his reading. The data the Iron Man suit had pulled from the other side of the Chitauri portal was _fascinating_. Stark was going to make a lot of astrophysicists very happy if SHIELD ever declassified it.

Stark poked Bruce in the arm until he glanced at him in irritation. "What?"

Stark cocked his head. "Did you still want to see the arc reactor?"

While Bruce was still trying to think of a way to say yes that didn't sound like he'd been hanging around waiting for a chance to get Tony Stark's shirt off (thanks, but no thanks), Stark laughed. "Of course you do. It's the genesis of a brand new wave of sustainable energy. Come down to the workshop and I'll show you everything."

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "This isn't an 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' kind of deal, is it? Because this is a nice tower. I'd hate to break it. Again."

"You like the tower?" asked Stark, distracted.

"It's amazing," said Bruce, with complete sincerity. "Some of this is beyond even science fiction." From the way Stark breezed through personal interaction like he was the only important element, Bruce had half-expected Stark Tech to be composed mostly of bugs and sloppy manufacturing. But it seemed Stark took care in his machines.

Stark's expression slid from delight into his more usual smooth arrogance. "Yeah, well, part of the advantage of having it half-destroyed by an army of invading aliens and a giant green rage monster — no hard feelings — is that I get the chance to upgrade everything again. We can cling to that 'state of the art' label for at least another month."

"At least until something better comes along."

"Please. Until _I invent_ something better." Stark always seemed confused that anyone considered Stark Industries to have actual competition.

Bruce had known that Stark was an inventor, at least in theory. He hadn't realised quite how much Tony Stark _liked_ to build things before Bruce moved into the Tower. For the CEO of a major corporation, Stark was a little more involved in the technical side of things than Bruce considered usual. (From the sound of things, Miss Potts agreed.)

Stark poked him again. "Come on, I don't have all day."

"Of course, sorry for wasting your time after you so politely interrupted my work so that I could give you a chance to show off," murmured Bruce.

Stark was already halfway out the door. "What?"

Bruce got wearily to his feet. He glanced back at his screen wistfully before locking it.

Besides, he _did_ want to see the arc reactor.

—

Computers might be superior to humans in matters of mathematics and calculation, and it was certainly convenient to not have to work with real, dangerous chemicals and radiation, but that didn't mean they made things easier. The simulation was not only _not_ returning the expected results, the results it was putting out were _impossible_ under the current understanding of particle physics.

Bruce slumped in his seat, propping his chin on one hand and running his fingers through his hair. He poked at the touchscreen with a little more force than was truly necessary.

He heard the door open. "Bruce!"

"Yes, Tony?" Bruce asked, without looking away from the screen.

"You seem annoyed. Come on, a problem shared is a problem halved. What's on your mind?"

"I'm always annoyed," said Bruce absently. If he changed the simulation factors here and _here..._

Complete silence made him turn around.

Tony was staring at him like he had just experienced an epiphany.

Bruce waved a hand in front of him. "Stark? Was there actually a reason you interrupted me?"

"Sorry, sorry, just having a moment here. You know when suddenly your entire perception of a person just shifts? I thought you were Fluttershy, but you're really Twilight Sparkle[1]."

Bruce abruptly knew what Steve Rogers must feel like every single day. "I have no idea what you just said, but I need you to get back to the point, Tony."

"I can't remember my point." He stared at Bruce for a moment longer.

"Stark," said Bruce, almost growling.

"Oh yeah! Fury was asking about the thermal data specification you mentioned in your last report."

Bruce sighed and turned back to his data. "I had to redo it. Tell him it'll be ready when it's ready," he said, with absolutely no confidence that Tony would do anything of the sort. Tony would probably pass a false report with numbers just plausible enough to be believable, but ridiculous enough to be instantly recognisable to any scientist.

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

Bruce had about enough time to change one number in the simulation before Stark was hanging over his shoulder again.

"So is it like the frog and the pot of water or what?"

Bruce dragged his gaze away from the screen to look at Stark again. Usually he could follow Stark's rapid changes of gear, but this one had him baffled.

"You know, if you let the water boil too quickly the ugly green thing pops out, but if you let it gradually simmer up it boils to death."

It still took him a minute, and irritating as it was (and that's a good thing, he reminded himself), Tony had nailed it again. "Something like that."

"In order to keep from losing your temper, you have to stay angry. It's brilliant. Twisted."

By now, Bruce felt so in touch with his emotions he thought he should probably be eligible for another degree in it. It didn't give him the ability to talk about it. "It's like a dam. If I just stop the flow, eventually there's too much pressure and the dam bursts. But if I let the river run freely, it can take a lot more pressure before it gives."

Tony looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "No, I preferred my metaphor. It was much cooler."

 

[1] I'm so sorry, it was the first pop culture reference I thought of.

—

**Captain America**

Bruce had been provided with a shiny new Starkphone that he strongly suspected had been specially customised for his needs — or possibly SI had a line of phones that were guaranteed unbreakable. (Or possibly they did _now_.) He also had an account on Stark Industries' private instant messaging server, their private video chat network, and the more ordinary landline in the corner of his lab.

When he wanted to get in contact with Bruce, Tony Stark didn't bother using any of them.

A little window popped up in front of Bruce's work containing a photograph of Tony's face. "Bruce, you have to see this. Come to the lounge." The image disappeared, along with the rest of the screen.

Bruce took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. How long had he been sitting there, anyway? His neglected stomach growled at him.

He shuffled into the lounge and popped a frozen burrito into the microwave.

"It's just tragic," said Tony, gesturing in the direction of the television.

Captain America was standing in front of a fairly generic apartment building, politely answering questions from a giant crowd of reporters. The constant flashes from the cameras had to be blinding, but he kept responding with the same wide smile.

"Do you think SHIELD forgot to teach him how to say 'no comment' and back away?" said Tony. "Or is he just too polite?"

Since the return of Captain America was public knowledge anyway, SHIELD had decided to use him for P.R. and the occasional high-visibility mission. It seemed the press had grown tired of conferences and were heading straight for the source.

"SHIELD is completely incompetent. He's wasted on work like this."

"I didn't think you two got along," commented Bruce, cleaning his glasses. "Why are you getting so worked up on his behalf?"

"There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and fighting off an alien invasion is one," said Tony seriously.

Bruce shook his head, as the microwave turned itself off and an electronic voice spoke. "Doctor Banner, your burrito is ready. I took the liberty of adding an additional 30 seconds to the cook time, as it was still cold in the centre."

"How long has the kitchen been speaking?" he asked, poking at the burrito gingerly.

"Oh, that's just JARVIS," said Tony dismissively. On the television another flashbulb went off, and Tony actually winced. "OK, that's enough. I'll be back soon." He walked out to the balcony and leaped off, acquiring the armour somewhere in between.

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and sat down at the bar with his burrito. On the television, Steve was still politely answering questions with increasingly anxious body language.

Barely a minute later, the Iron Man buzzed the crowd, coming to rest a little behind Steve. Tony popped the visor.

"Sorry, ladies and gentlemen. Captain America here is late for an appointment. Save your questions for the next press conference."

Then he scooped Steve up and flew out of screen.

Five minutes later — presumably because the Iron Man armour couldn't maintain max speed while carrying an unarmoured human — Steve was deposited onto the balcony.

"You can thank me anytime," said Tony, losing the armour and walking towards the bar. "Drink?"

"Just water," said Steve automatically. "We don't actually have an appointment, do we? I don't think I would have forgotten that."

"Sure we do. JARVIS, set up an appointment with Captain Steve Rogers for, ooh, fifteen minutes ago."

Steve shuffled his feet. "I don't like lying to the press."

"Really? Because they seem to _love_ lying about you."

"Stark—"

Bruce shook his head. "Just let it go, Captain. Stark is stubborn."

Steve turned to face him. "Doctor Banner," he said, walking over to stand in front of him and hold out his hand. "It's good to see you again," he continued, with perfect sincerity.

Ah yes, Captain America, who always was at pains to let Bruce know that he didn't care about the other guy. It was a nice thought. Bruce wished he had that privilege.

"And you, Captain," said Bruce, not managing the same tone.

"Call me Steve," said Steve automatically. "I'm not really a Captain. I mean, not anymore. And you're not in the army. Er."

"You shouldn't let the press just walk all over you," interrupted Tony. "They're vultures. If you're polite they'll just take it as an invitation to take more."

"I'm _Captain America_ ," said Steve. "I can't just be rude to people."

Tony shrugged. "Your funeral." He paused. "Second one, I guess."

Steve sighed.

"Don't take it personally," Bruce advised him. "He's always like this."

Steve folded his arms and leaned back against the bar. "I'm going to have to get _another_ new apartment. Fury is going to yell at me. Again."

"You should just stay here," said Tony. "We've got plenty of space."

"They'd just follow me here," said Steve. "I can't do that to you."

Tony let out a sharp bark of laughter. "The press don't bother me at home. Reporters who bother Tony Stark at home quickly find themselves out of a job."

"It's true," Bruce offered. "I haven't seen a single reporter around the building."

"And I couldn't possibly impose on—"

"Ahem. Billionaire? Philanthropist?"

Steve looked uncertain. "Well, if you're sure…."

"Absolutely," said Tony. "Hey, can I be there when you tell Fury you're moving in with me?"

Steve winced.

—

Bruce woke early, drenched in sweat from a nightmare and too wired to get back to sleep. He pulled on a bathrobe and headed to the kitchen, only to find Steve sitting at the breakfast counter with a plate of toast, his gaze flickering between the jam and butter.

Apparently reaching a conclusion, Steve reached for the jam and pushed the butter aside. "I know we have plenty now, but I just can't bring myself to…."

"Don't let the Dairy Farmers of America hear you say that," Bruce advised.

Steve actually looked worried for a moment.

"Sorry," said Bruce. "That was a joke."

Steve gave him a tentative smile.

Bruce put some bread of his own in the toaster and turned to lean against the bench.

Steve cleared his throat. "How are you feeling, Doctor Banner?"

Bruce briefly, uncharitably, wondered if Steve wanted him to report on his emotional state like a weather announcer. 'Fine, with a 10% chance of green', perhaps. "About average," he said. Steve probably didn't want a truthful answer anyway.

"Look," said Steve. "Would you like me to get Tony to leave you alone for a bit? I can probably get him to show me around the city a bit, give you some peace and quiet."

Steve might say that Bruce-the-scientist was the only part he cared about, but he still apologised on behalf of Tony whenever Tony's tongue grew a little too barbed. Bruce didn't like the way Tony treated Bruce's condition like it was deliciously funny _either_ , but Steve's stalwart defense of his mental state was beginning to try Bruce's patience.

"Pretty much the exact opposite of what I need, Cap," said Bruce. "It's safer if I don't get too relaxed."

Steve's brow furrowed.

"Do you ever get angry? Really angry, I mean. Losing your temper."

"When I'm protecting people," said Steve automatically.

Bruce's lips quirked. "Other than that."

"I try not to," said Steve. "Getting mad just… makes other people mad." He flashed Bruce a guilty look.

"Yeah? What's your secret?" When Steve just looked confused, he gave Steve a pointed smile. "Let me give you an example. How do you stop yourself from punching Tony Stark in the face?"

"Tony just acts like a jerk because he's trying protect himself by keeping anybody from getting too close to him."

Bruce stared at him.

"It's pretty obvious once you stop and think about it," said Steve. "He really does care. And… well. It doesn't seem like he's had an easy life, riches aside."

"Tony's upbringing explains his actions, it doesn't excuse them," said Bruce.

"You meet a lot of guys like that in the army," said Steve. "Everybody has their reasons for acting the way they do. You just need to figure it out, and then you understand them." He looked at Bruce hopefully.

On some fundamental level, Steve Rogers didn't really understand anger. Not the way Bruce felt it, a steady flame you couldn't extinguish and could only dampen for a little while before it flared back up, hotter than ever.

Bruce shook his head. "I don't work like that." He gave Steve what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me, Cap. I can handle a lot more than Tony Stark without snapping."

—

The next time Bruce saw Steve, he was holding a bowl of leftover Chinese food and staring at the microwave helplessly. "We had one of these in my old apartment and they showed me how to use it, but this one… There aren't any buttons."

"Tony 'improves' things," said Bruce. "Let me take a look." In this case, the microwave appeared to have had its control pad replaced with a touch screen since the last time he used it. He poked at it for a moment, then sighed. "JARVIS, could you heat up Steve's egg foo yung for him?"

"Certainly, Doctor Banner."

Steve gave the ceiling a sidelong glance.

"Don't worry," Bruce drawled. "Talking houses are unusual in the twenty-first century, too."

Steve looked relieved. "Really?"

"Really. Half of the stuff in this house is five years ahead of the market, maybe more."

Steve gave him a funny sort of half-smile. "Howard's lab was like that." He bit his lip. "Sorry. I know Tony doesn't like me to talk about Howard."

"Don't worry. The computer probably won't tattle on you."

Steve leaned against the fridge, looking strangely out of place in the modern kitchen for no reason Bruce could really put his finger on. "I used to think nothing could be as strange as my life after Project Rebirth," he said. "I'm revising that opinion every day."

It was hard to remember that Steve, who looked like the epitome of every jock ever to beat up a nerd in high school, had once been one of those little guys he stood up for. A kind of cognitive dissonance.

"Steve," he said slowly. "Do you mind if I ask you about the serum?"

Steve's expression passed through surprise and wariness before settling on understanding. He hesitated for a moment. "Coulson told me that you were trying to recreate the serum when—" He stopped.

Bruce smiled without humour. "I _thought_ I was just trying to make gamma radiation safe for humans. Naive of me, I suppose."

"I don't think that's naive at all," said Steve.

Which was… appropriate.

"I don't mind telling you about it, but I'm not a scientist. I don't know much about what Erskine actually did."

"That's fine," said Bruce. "Your experience can still provide clues about what changes it made."

What Steve outlined of the procedure was no more than Bruce had already learned from witness reports at the time. "Can you tell me about what actually changed? Did you have to build muscle? Were you more agile immediately afterwards, or did you have to work at it?"

"I didn't really have a chance to adapt. Erskine was murdered right after the procedure finished, and I learned how to use it while I was chasing his killer. I did a bit of training afterwards, but mostly it was learning specific techniques."

"Were there any mental changes, or just the physical?

Steve shook his head. "It wasn't like the serum turned me into a hero. It was like I finally had the body to do all the things I was doing anyway. Bucky was always—" Steve's face fell, and he glanced at Bruce.

Bruce wondered if Steve was waiting for him to change the subject. SHIELD seemed like the type. "Bucky?" he prompted.

"I was always getting into fights, and Bucky was always getting me out of them." He smiled weakly. "I guess I got to save him once, before— But he died anyway." Steve stopped talking and just looked at his hands for a moment. He flexed his fingers, as if trying their strength.

"Did you want to talk about it? Take it from one who knows, repressing things just leads to them leaking out when you least want them to."

"SHIELD thinks it's better if I just keep myself busy." So maybe Captain America, super-soldier, was just as much a lie as Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist.

"Yeah, that only works for so long. But I promise I won't tell SHIELD if it'll make you more comfortable."

Steve folded his hands in his lap. "Thanks," he said. "I'd like that."

—

**Black Widow**

It was probably telling that most of Bruce's social interaction in the Tower took place in the kitchen. It was possible that he only left his lab for a) sleep and b) food.

He could hardly be blamed, though. Stark's multimedia setup was impressive, as was his collection of movies, music and television series, but it hardly compared to having an _actual lab_ all to himself. There was enough data in SHIELD's archives to keep him occupied for years, and as long as he kept reporting on his findings they seemed perfectly happy for him to keep working with it.

This time the kitchen seemed a little more exciting than usual. There definitely appeared to be raised voices. He recognised Steve, Tony and Pepper, and—

"Pepper, you cannot just invite SHIELD agents to come live in my Tower!"

"I'm sorry," said Natasha, as cold as ice. "I didn't realise this was a boys-only clubhouse. There wasn't a 'no girls allowed' sign on the door."

"I thought it was _our_ Tower," said Pepper. "Besides, isn't Steve a SHIELD agent?"

" _Particularly_ not ones that are previously known for impersonating SI employees and _spying on me_."

"I thought we built floors for all of the Avengers. They were extremely expensive. Don't tell me you'd forgotten already."

"Pepper!" wailed Tony. "It was supposed to be a secret!"

"Welcome to your new home," said Steve, with utter sincerity. "Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"Because God forbid anybody realise you're secretly an actual human being with sentimental feelings and everything," said Pepper. "It would be so shameful."

"Thank you, Captain," said Natasha. "You are very kind."

"Maybe I just wanted it to be a surprise!"

"I was surprised," said Natasha, completely deadpan.

"Did you tell Fury about this? He's going to forbid it, right? Because I'm such a terrible influence. You should have seen his face when Steve moved in."

"Fury is perfectly fine with me moving out, because he is not actually my father." Natasha raised her brows and waited.

After a long, non-verbal conversation with Pepper, Tony sighed heavily. "Fine. Fine. _Mi casa es su casa_. Et cetera."

Bruce cleared his throat. "Agent Romanov. Welcome to the madhouse." He took a step towards her and she froze, almost imperceptibly. Evaluating the threat level. Wary.

He finished crossing the room and shook her hand, then poured himself a glass of water. He'd been aiming for dinner, but right now it seemed more politic to exit as quickly as possible.

Bruce felt her eyes following him until he rounded the corner and headed back to the lab.

He wasn't expecting Pepper to find him there about an hour later.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realise you and Natasha had a history."

"We don't," he said. "She has a completely justifiable desire to never be in an enclosed space with me." He didn't feel guilty about it. Guilt just led to a downward spiral of pain and, eventually, uncontrollable rage.

"Well, I want you to know I never intended to make you uncomfortable in your own home."

Bruce looked up to meet her eyes, but all he saw was honest dismay. Home, was it? He supposed it was, inasmuch as any place could be considered 'home' now.

"Don't worry about me, Miss Potts," he said. "You haven't."

—

He heard soft knocking on the door, then the lab door clicked as it came unlocked and footsteps entered the room.

"Tony, how many times have I told you wait before—"

"Not Tony," said Natasha.

"Agent Romanov," he said. He saved the document he was working on and turned to face her. "How can I help you?"

She looked around. "Cozy. I like the reinforced steel walls."

"I'm hoping I'll never have the need to test them." He was pretty certain they'd only slow the other guy down, and was resolutely not thinking about how angry the Hulk became when he was trapped.

"It doesn't bother you that you're putting every person in this building at risk?" she asked, raising one perfect brow.

He took his glasses off and slipped them into his pocket. "I don't exactly have many options left," he said. He paused. "Maybe you should have thought of that before you brought me in."

"It wasn't my decision."

"The Nuremberg defense. Really."

She maintained frozen in place, not betraying a flicker of emotion. "Fury believed—"

"I know what Fury believed," said Bruce. "The question is, do you think he was right?"

"What happened on the helicarrier—"

He leaned forward, hands flat on the table. "You brought me there onto that flying death-trap, you didn't trust me, you let Loki _use_ me and you were. Still. Scared. Of. Me. It's hard to keep calm when you've just fallen through the floor, Agent Romanov."

Natasha retained that icy posture.

"That's why he attacked you," said Bruce. "Because I was angry with you." He paused for a moment, then let the tension melt out of his shoulders and folded his hands in his lap. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

She watched him steadily for a long moment. "Apology accepted." She paused for a moment. "It's not personal. It's about risk assessment," she added. "If the probability is low but the impact is high, the risk level is still high."

He nodded slowly. "I understand."

She turned to leave, all fluid grace.

"I know Pepper invited you to stay here," he said. "But I bet you accepted because SHIELD wants to keep an eye on me."

"You have a high opinion of your own importance," she said.

"Just of SHIELD's persistence."

She paused at the door. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. We played right into Loki's hands. If I'd got to him sooner, we might have prevented it."

For once, he couldn't think of anything to say. An apology was the last thing he'd expected from her.

When she left, the door didn't make a sound.

—

It wasn't until he was halfway to the bar that he noticed a splash of red hair on the sofa. Natasha was stretched out over the entire length of it, feet dangling off the edge, her eyes closed. He cleared his throat apologetically.

"I know you're there, Doctor Banner," said Natasha. "There aren't many people who can sneak up on me."

He poured himself a drink and put a TV dinner in the microwave. "Sue Richards?" he suggested mildly.

"Is invisible, not inaudible," she said.

He was always hearing Tony and Steve comment — Tony in annoyance, Steve with a kind of wonder — on Natasha sneaking up on them. Tony was threatening to tell JARVIS to play a chime every time she entered the room.

She'd never taken Bruce by surprise yet, and he was pretty certain it wasn't because of his hearing abilities.

"Must be hard, always being on the alert like that," he said.

"It's a necessity," she said. "You slip once, you're dead."

"Yeah. I know what that's like."

She was silent for a long moment. "It's not the same thing at all."

"No," he agreed. "But I know a lot about control, all the same."

Another long moment passed. "I've met guys like him before," she offered, in a tone so flat he couldn't even begin to read anything into it. "Big, stupid, and strong. Don't care who they're hitting as long as they're hitting someone. Too stupid to manipulate, too blinkered to do anything but obey orders."

He wondered if he was being interrogated. Natasha didn't seem like the type to offer personal information if there wasn't anything to gain from it.

"Do you know what you do when you encounter a guy like that, Doctor Banner?"

He shook his head.

"You hope to hell you have a gun and a clean getaway. You shoot, and then you run."

Bruce smiled. "Bullets don't work on me."

"I know."

He sighed. "You're right to be afraid, Agent Romanov. Maybe you're the only smart one living in this tower. But forgive me if I don't want to submit myself to life in a cage just yet." He shook his head. "Assuming you could find a cage that could keep me. Do you know what limits the Hulk's strength?" he asked conversationally.

She shook her head.

"Neither do I," he said. "The angrier he is, the stronger he gets."

"You're not exactly reassuring me here, Doctor Banner."

Bruce gave her a bleak smile. "No." He was suddenly tired of this conversation — tired of trying to justify something even he wasn't convinced he deserved, but he would be damned if he was going to let her decide for him. "Just trust me to be able keep control in ordinary situations," he said. "I wouldn't have accepted Stark's offer if I couldn't."

"Stark is part of the problem," she said. "Exceptional circumstances have a way of coming to him." She sat up straight on the sofa. "You know SHIELD is still keeping the Army off your back for you."

_General Ross_. This anger was ancient, familiar. He clung to it.

"It would be a lot easier if you were on our payroll."

Bruce laughed. "What, you want to recruit me now? Thanks, but no thanks. The only difference between the Army and SHIELD is that SHIELD has Nick Fury standing between me and the people who want to lock me up."

"You don't trust Fury?"

"I don't trust the World Security Council not to throw him under a bus to get to me. Correct me if I'm wrong, Agent Romanov, but I don't think he's very popular with his superiors right now."

She met his eyes and stared at him, although what she was searching for in his face he couldn't have guessed. "SHIELD is my home," she said, at last.

"I'm glad for you," he murmured. At her look, he continued. "You seem like the type to be alone. I'm glad you found a place to belong to."

She looked away. "I'll tell them to keep up the fight," she said, stretching her arms and getting to her feet. "The longer you go without an incident, the longer they'll be able to keep that up."

He inclined his head. "Thank you."

—

**Hawkeye**

Natasha brought Clint into the fold. Tony was not pleased.

"Are you going to move the entirety of SHIELD into my Tower? Should I be checking for Fury under the bed tonight?"

"I'm sorry," said Natasha, smiling sweetly. "Didn't you say _mi casa es su casa_?"

Tony glanced at her and quickly changed tactics. "Besides, I haven't even finished his floor. It's supposed to have a high-tech archery range and an enhanced security feed of the building perimeter. You're supposed to _inform_ a person before you invite someone else to move in with them."

"Does it have a bed?" asked Barton. "And a private shower?"

Tony hesitated, clearly biting back some kind of 'nesting' remark.

"Then I'm happy."

"Fine," said Tony. "But you have to help me test the archery range."

"Wasn't going to use it without testing it anyway," Barton drawled. "The Iron Man is not exactly known for his finesse."

Steve quickly stepped forward, assuming a blinding smile and shaking Barton's hand. "Welcome to the tower, Agent Barton."

Barton sketched a mock salute in the air. "Captain."

Bruce wiped his hands on his pants before stepping forward himself. "Agent Barton."

He saw Clint's eyes flick briefly to Natasha's, and she slowly inclined her head. "Doctor," said Clint. "It's good to finally meet you under calmer circumstances."

It was hard to know how to react. He didn't remember the battle except in flashes, and one silent meal of shawarma didn't exactly constitute a proper introduction. SHIELD had whisked him off as soon as Loki was in custody, and Bruce hadn't seen Barton since.

He was a SHIELD agent, which came with a certain stigma, and he was close to Natasha, which also painted an interesting picture of his character. Rumour had it he was a smart-ass and very, very good at his job. Not much to go on.

Bruce shook Barton's hand briskly. "You, too. Let's hope things stay that way."

"Don't say _that_!" said Tony. "Quick, somebody knock on wood."

Bruce pointedly looked around the room, which gleamed with metal and reconstituted black marble.

"Guess we'd better hope your bad luck doesn't rub off on me, Stark," said Barton.

"Hey. I do not have bad luck."

"Then… all of those times you caused mass property damage while fighting off someone with a grudge against you were just incompetence?"

"Clint," said Steve. "Be nice."

"Oh, this _is_ nice," said Barton. "You telling me your crew were all sunshine and puppies to each other all the time?"

Steve's expression cleared in understanding. He did that a lot. As soon as he had a frame of reference, he was happy. "I suppose not. Just don't make him break things. It upsets Miss Potts."

Barton gave him another mock salute.

—

Somebody knocked on the lab door, firmly but not too loudly. Bruce carefully wrote down the result of his titration and moved the glassware to the back of the bench. "Come in," Bruce called.

Barton stepped through the door. "Hi, doc."

"Agent Barton," said Bruce, biting back surprise. "What can I help you with?"

"Recon," said Barton, his eyes flicking around the room, taking in the details.

Bruce raised his eyebrows.

"Can't get all the details from a floor plan. Trust my own eyes better than I do Tony Stark's computer."

"Don't tell Tony that," Bruce advised.

Barton snorted. "I already did. I can handle Stark."

"Then, by all means," said Bruce. "Sorry it's such a mess."

"It's better if things look natural," said Barton. He circled the room, feet barely making any sound. "Surprised you're even letting me in here," he said conversationally.

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Loki's plan was to use you against SHIELD. Where do you think that intel came from in the first place?"

Bruce thought about that for a moment. "This is the first time someone's ever tried to convince me I _should_ be angry about something."

Barton smirked at him. "Thought you wanted to be angry."

Bruce scratched the back of his neck. "I don't really need any assistance on that front," he said. "But thanks for thinking of me." He couldn't be angry with Barton. If he thought it right to be angry with Barton for what _Loki_ did, he may as well try and put another bullet in his own mouth because it wouldn't matter how much good he tried to do, he could never make up for the bad.

Barton laughed, and it almost sounded genuine. "You're probably the only one not thinking about it. SHIELD has me back on probation. Clearance level 3 — even the need-to-know stuff is above it. I probably shouldn't even be talking to you. You're classified."

SHIELD, though. SHIELD he could be angry with.

"Giant green rage monsters being known for their ability to remain secret and hidden," Bruce murmured.

"Not him," said Barton. "Your relationship to him."

"I'm not actually convinced that's the kind of situation where it's safer to be ignorant," said Bruce.

Barton studied him for a moment. "Tasha thinks we should try to keep out of your way," he said. "I figure it's better to be on your good side."

"Natasha is a wise woman," said Bruce.

Barton just shrugged.

After a moment, making certain Barton wasn't touching anything, Bruce turned to his computer screen and started entering the results into his database.

"Can I ask a question, doc?"

"Sure," said Bruce absently. Results were consistent with the SHIELD records, which didn't make sense, because—

"How do you stop feeling guilty about things you did when you weren't yourself?"

Bruce blinked. He rounded on his chair, but Barton was looking at the grate in the roof, holding his finger in front of his eye as if measuring it.

"If you figure it out, let me know," he said. "Best I can do is try to make it not happen again." He could explain about guilt, and about how much safer anger was, but he didn't think it would help Barton at all.

"Yeah." Barton sighed. "Not really sure how it happened in the first place, doc."

Bruce nodded and took off his glasses, cleaning them on the bottom of his shirt and somehow managing to smear them even more. "Either it's magic or radically advanced science. Both are terrifying."

Barton finished whatever he was doing with the grate and turned to face Bruce. "See, _torture_ I can handle. Mind-games, interrogation, it's all just psychology. But mind-control, magic… I got nothing. I was hoping there was some chance you could figure it out."

Bruce hesitated. "Tony said that Loki tried to… change him and failed. If we can figure out how the arc reactor was able to block Loki's staff, I may be able to at least come up with some theories."

Barton tossed a USB key in his general direction, and Bruce utterly failed to catch it before it skittered under the desk.

"That's what SHIELD already managed to find out," he said. "They were moving a little slow for my taste."

"Thanks," said Bruce dryly. He crawled under the desk to retrieve the drive. By the time he resurfaced, Barton was gone.

—

He wandered into the living area to find Clint and Natasha decorating opposite ends of the sofa with identical satisfied expressions. The damp state of their hair led him to conclude that they'd been giving Tony's gym a workout, and not the undoubtedly lewd suggestions Tony himself might have made.

"Hey, doc," said Clint.

Natasha gave him a thin smile.

He didn't see a lot of them. As far as Bruce could tell they were only actually sleeping in the tower a couple of nights a week at most. He saw Clint more than he saw Natasha. Rumour (that is, Tony Stark) had it that Fury had banned him from SHIELD headquarters.

He knew better than to ask where they were the rest of the time.

"You ever tried sparring?" asked Clint, proving Bruce's hypothesis correct.

"Uh," said Bruce. "Not since high school. Martial arts never really… mixed well with me. I was a science nerd." An _angry_ science nerd, with no outlet for his aggression that wouldn't frustrate him further.

Clint shook his head. "How about with the Hulk?"

Bruce coughed. "The other guy doesn't exactly believe in pulling his punches."

Natasha muttered something that could have been backing up his statement.

"He's hardly going to learn if you won't let him practice."

Bruce shook his head. "You don't understand. He's like raw emotion, unfettered by common sense or empathy. I can't control him, just… direct him."

Clint studied him for a moment. "Well, guess you'd know. Let me know if you change your mind."

Natasha sat up. "Clint. There's no way you can take him in hand-to-hand combat, and this tower doesn't have any space big enough for you to shoot at him and keep out of his reach for more than a minute. Taking him on would be suicide."

"We live in _Tony Stark's_ house," said Barton. "We'll force him to make us some robots or something."

"Speaking of whom, you should probably talk to Stark before you start threatening to cause grievous bodily harm to his walls," said Natasha.

"He'll be fine with it."

He probably _would_. Barton wasn't the only one trying to convince Bruce to take the other guy out for a spin. Tony, at least, was easy to distract with science.

"The answer's still no," said Bruce.

Clint shrugged and got to his feet, stretching as he left the room. "Boring. I'm going to turn in. Got an early meeting tomorrow."

Bruce glanced at the clock and winced. He really had to set an alarm or something. Sleep deprivation was not a risk he could afford to take.

"Thank you," said Natasha quietly. "When he gets bored, he gets stupid and reckless." She paused. "And really, really annoying."

Bruce was startled into a laugh. "I should have my report done this week. If I'm right, this will be enough evidence for them to reinstate him."

"Thank you," she said again.

"I do what I can," he said. "It keeps me busy." The problem with being angry was that he could never stop trying to find the cause of that anger and _fix_ it.

"You don't need to be ashamed of wanting to help people," she advised him. "Goodnight, Doctor Banner."

—

**Thor**

His first clue that something was up was when Steve, Natasha, _and_ Clint were simultaneously called back to SHIELD headquarters, and still hadn't returned after two days.

Bruce kept an eye on the news for anything strange, but it seemed to be business as usual for the rest of the world.

"OK," said Tony, bursting into Bruce's lab without warning. "That is it. SHIELD is keeping secrets. I hate secrets. I'm going to go in there and find out what's up if it's the last thing I do."

"Don’t make it the last thing you do," said Bruce.

And then he was alone in the tower, barring the Stark Industries employees in the lower levels. Tony didn't interrupt him in the middle of his work to talk about power efficiency. He no longer nearly walked into Natasha lurking in the hallways. When he walked into the kitchen in the middle of the night, Clint wasn't there, holding a package of instant soup at arm's length to read the instructions. (Bruce had suggested that if he really saw better at a distance, perhaps reading glasses were in store. Clint had just glared at him.) When he sat down on the couch, Steve wasn't there, attempting to catch up on seventy years of American popular culture. Even Pepper wasn't around, since she was currently off taking care of Stark Industries business in L.A.

It was, frankly, a little unnerving. He'd spent most of the last year or so surrounding himself with people. On his own, it was too easy to fall into self-pity, and there wasn't nearly enough around to get angry about.

He did the only thing he could think of — bury himself in science.

"Let me know if anyone comes back to the tower," he told JARVIS, before settling in with intent.

It was another three days before anybody did.

"Doctor Banner," JARVIS said deferentially. "A number of people have just landed on the roof. I suggest you meet them in the penthouse suite."

"People I know?" asked Bruce, although he was reasonably certain that JARVIS would be raising the alarm if they were hostiles.

"I believe so, yes. Mr Stark is there, as well as Agents Barton, Rogers, and Romanov."

Bruce saved his work and took the elevator up to the penthouse.

The group just now walking down the stairs was as described, plus Nick Fury, a brunette he didn't recognise, and—

"Doctor Banner!" cried Thor, bouncing down the last of the steps and landing gracefully in front of Bruce. "My friend!" He slapped him on the arm in what was probably intended to be a gentle manner.

Bruce returned the gesture, bemused. Clearly the friendship of Thor was easily earned. He wasn't convinced there was anything in that incident that warranted this level of enthusiasm. "Thor," he said. "Welcome back to Earth?"

"The Allfather has seen fit to make me his ambassador to Midgard," said Thor proudly. "And now that we have used the Tesseract to repair the Bifrost, I am free to travel between worlds."

"Used the..." said Bruce. "But I thought it was a power source? How does that work?"

"Sadly, I am not skilled with the art of technology," said Thor.

"But you bet your ass we're going to find somebody who is so they can explain it," said Tony.

"You mean SHIELD is going to—" interrupted the woman.

"If we work on it together I'll let you use my labs. My budget is bigger than SHIELD's, you'll love it."

Fury was holding his forehead in one hand, massaging his temple. "Doctor Foster. Stark. Please."

"You're Jane Foster?" asked Bruce. She nodded. "I've read some of your work. Not just on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, I mean, before that. It's very impressive. Er. I'm Bruce Banner?"

Her eyes lit up with recognition. "Doctor Banner," she said. "It's nice to finally meet you in person. I've read a lot of the reports you've been sending to SHIELD."

"Thor is going to be living in the tower," interrupted Tony. "It'll be science all the time. We can have science parties. Oh, and be careful of Bruce, he has a nasty temper."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

Fury cleared his throat. "Thor is going to be living here on a _trial basis_."

"I would not want to be separated from my comrades in arms," said Thor, setting his jaw. "I do not like the idea of this trial."

"You're going to love it here," said Tony. "Fury has nothing to worry about."

Thor clapped him on the back. "I am sure I shall!"

—

The microwave was broken. From the look of the handle, somebody (read: a certain Norse god) had been trying to open it without pressing the button. Again.

He glared at the offending device for longer than was truly necessary. It wasn't like Thor was more annoying than, say, Tony. His enthusiasm for Earth's dubious charms would ordinarily be endearing. (It certainly was on Steve.)

And yet he found Thor unbelievably irritating.

Bruce rubbed his temples. There was another microwave in the media room that would hopefully still be in one piece.

Naturally, Thor was currently sitting on the couch in the media room, watching something that Bruce eventually identified as _The Two Towers._ On the other end of the couch, Jane had fallen asleep, sheaves of paper slipping off her lap onto the floor.

Thor's expression brightened when he saw Bruce. "Doctor," said Thor in an uncharacteristically low voice. "There is something I would speak of with you."

"Yes?" said Bruce warily.

"During our fight against the Chitauri, it appeared that the green one held some ill will toward me for our epic battle inside the flying fortress. I wish to resolve this."

_Oh_ , thought Bruce. This was not good.

"Do you think the green one is the type to resolve differences through combat?" said Thor. "Or would he prefer speech?" Thor's hopeful look indicated he would prefer the former.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Thor," said Bruce. "He's not terribly complicated. If he already, uh, let his feelings be known, his anger has probably passed."

He wasn't at all certain of this, but Thor looked relieved. "I hope you are right. He has a most powerful fist."

"I'm sorry," said Bruce.

"There is nothing to apologise for," said Thor amiably. "We are familiar with the Warrior's Madness in Asgard. It would be foolish to intervene except in dire circumstances."

Bruce stared at him blankly. He had entirely forgotten why he'd entered the media room in the first place, so he returned to his lab and dropped into the chair, letting his forehead fall onto his crossed arms.

He'd always thought it was a one-way channel. His emotions would influence the Hulk, but not the other way around.

He pulled his notebook out and wrote in careful lettering, _Banner and Hulk may share emotions equally, contrary to previous theory. Evidence of single entity status increased._

Well, he'd always known the Hulk was like a magnified version of himself, minus the intelligence and ability to reason and plus a whole lot of strength. Was the reverse being true really such a surprise?

His stomach growled, and _now_ he remembered why he'd been going to the kitchen.

It was too much to hope that Thor might have left. He was still ensconced on the couch, although he appeared to have moved onto _The Return of the King_ , and Jane had moved so she was slumped against his shoulder.

It was rather sweet, actually.

He put his food in the microwave and walked over to watch Samwise Gamgee fight the giant spider.

"These moving pictures tell a fine tale," said Thor. "Are you familiar with this Lord of the Rings?"

"I've seen them," said Bruce automatically. "I preferred the books."

Thor beamed at him. "My lady Jane said the same. It is most strange, how you reverse the telling of tales on Midgard. Would it not be more usual to set a spoken tale to writing rather than render a written tale in action?"

"They do novelise movies," said Bruce, sitting on the armchair next to Thor and balancing his plate on his lap. "It doesn't usually turn out very well."

If the channel really did run both ways, the best way to get the other guy acclimated to Thor would be to spend more time around him.

And… try to direct his anger elsewhere. Just in case.

—

Thor, it seemed, came with an entourage. There was Jane, of course, who had finally relented and taken up Tony on his offer of lab space, and brought with _her_ a steady stream of scientists, plus one remarkably offbeat young lady by the name of Darcy.

Tony had an entourage of his own, of course — Pepper and Happy were around as often as not, and even the War Machine had his own rooms at the Tower. (Bruce had seen him use them precisely once.)

"Doctor Banner," JARVIS interjected gently. "May I suggest you come to the rooftop? We have some unexpected guests." Bruce's monitor switched to a video feed of four people dressed in archaic armour.

"THOR!" bellowed one of them, turning to look around the rooftop in confusion. His companions repeated the cry.

"I take it you've already informed Thor?" said Bruce.

"He is on his way. I have also informed Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov."

Somehow Bruce had the impression that JARVIS still didn't entirely trust Thor. Only Tony Stark would program an AI that held grudges.

Bruce reached the rooftop barely seconds after Thor, Steve at his heels.

"Thor!" cried one of the strangers, and all four of them barrelled towards him to share an awkward five-way embrace.

"My friends!" boomed Thor delightedly. "What brings you here?"

"We come to welcome you to your new residence!"

"We heard that you reside with the mighty warriors with whom you fought the Chitauri invasion from Midgard," added another.

"And we were hoping you might introduce us to Earth's mightiest heroes," continued the third.

"And we must meet your Lady Jane," said the last.

"My friends," said Thor, beaming. He turned to the somewhat-bemused Earthlings. "Heimdall was watching our progress throughout the invasion, and the story of our battle has become quite popular at Odin's table."

"You don't say," murmured Bruce.

Thor turned back to his friends. "Not all of my compatriots are present, but I am pleased to introduce you to Captain America, whose shield can withstand even the might of Mjolnir."

Steve had his public relations smile on. "I am pleased to meet any friends of Thor," he said. "Welcome to Midgard." He clutched his shield to himself protectively when the strangers showed interest in it.

Thor looked a little beyond Bruce, and his eyes widened slightly.

"The Lady Black Widow, a… mighty fighter." Perhaps Asgard didn't have spies.

Natasha was indeed standing a little behind Bruce, although it seemed none of them had noticed her until Thor pointed her out.

The blond straightened and cocked his hip. The female rolled her eyes and shared a look of resignation with Natasha.

"And Doctor Banner, who is a master of Midgardian science." Their eyes passed over Bruce with little interest. "The Man of Iron, with his magnificent battle suit, is… doubtless off performing heroic deeds."

As far as Bruce knew, Tony had been dragged to a board meeting by Pepper.

"And the mighty archer known as Hawkeye is similarly occupied." Nobody actually seemed to know where Clint was, but Natasha didn't seem worried about it, so Bruce figured all was going as intended.

Thor turned back to Bruce, Steve, and Natasha. "My friends, these are the Warriors Three — Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg — and the Lady Sif."

The one Thor called Fandral cleared his throat. "Which of you is the one who bested Thor in combat? Such strength is unheard of in Asgard."

Thor seemed a little embarrassed. "I told you before, Doctor Banner is afflicted with an involuntary Warrior's Madness. He will not fight for pleasure, and refuses battle except in the direst of circumstances."

The warriors three nodded in understanding, although they looked a little disappointed.

"The Warrior's Madness is a great burden," Sif told him seriously. "For it to be uncontrollable, doubly so. You have done well to have achieved as much as you have."

"Thanks," said Bruce, bemused. It seemed the Asgardians had decided he was some kind of berserker. Clearly he would have to do some research into this.

"Please, come inside," said Thor, apparently remembering they were all standing around on the roof.

Thor opened the door and gestured for everybody to go through.

Thor pulled Bruce aside as he walked past him. "I am sorry. I know you find it uncomfortable to speak of. I do not think my friends will try to fight you to regain my honour, but they will have many questions."

"It's fine," said Bruce, surprised to realise it actually was. "I'd be curious too."

Thor clapped him on the back, laughing as Bruce staggered into the wall. "Perhaps now we are even?" he offered, bodily moving Bruce back into a standing position.

Bruce smiled involuntarily and rubbed at his head. "I'll take it into consideration."

END

**Extras**

**Happy Hogan**

Bruce knew what was coming when the sleek black car pulled up beside him from the personalised license plate, even though he didn't recognise the driver.

"Excuse me, sir. Mr Stark apologises for the delay and invites you to join him for a tour of Stark Tower."

"I thought it was still under refurbishment," said Bruce, not approaching the car. The penthouse certainly hadn't been livable the last time he'd seen it, what with the god-shaped dents in the floor and conspicuously absent windows.

"Just finished yesterday, and better than ever."

It wasn't like he had any better offers, but he took a moment to think it through anyway. "All right." Tony Stark knew what he was getting into. Bruce stepped into the car and closed the door behind him.

"What, just like that?" said the driver. "You haven't even asked for my ID. I could be anyone."

The ridiculousness of anybody trying to kidnap the Hulk in broad daylight on a busy street in Manhattan made him bite back laughter. "I can take care of myself."

The driver looked him up and down dubiously. "If you say so."

And that didn't make any sense at all. "You mean, Stark sent you here to pick me up without explaining who I am?" said Bruce, taken aback in spite of himself.

"Just gave me a picture and told me to pick you up." A little worry-wrinkle appeared on his forehead. "He said I shouldn't make you angry. You're not angry, are you?"

Bruce rubbed his eyes wearily. "No. You'd know if I were." It didn't surprise him at all that Stark had him under surveillance. He probably had his computer linked into every camera in the city. "Isn't this effectively kidnapping, anyway? I bet Stark told you not to accept 'no' for an answer."

The driver coughed and started the car. "I'm Happy Hogan, at your service."

"Bruce Banner," said Bruce.

The smooth purr of the car stuttered for a moment, then Hogan reasserted control of the vehicle.

Bruce allowed himself a smirk in the direction of the sidewalk and settled in to enjoy the drive.

 

**Pepper**

"You look like you're not sure whether to laugh or to punch him in the face," said Pepper, not-quite laughing at Bruce. "I see it a lot. Anyone who spends a lot of time around him develops a look like that."

Bruce shook his head at the door Tony had departed through. "Accurate." He paused for a moment. "But, er, you don't have to worry about—"

She held up a hand. "You don't need to reassure me. Tony is careless with his own life, not other people's."

"Do you think he's really obnoxious about doing nice things for people because he finds gratitude tiresome?"

"I think," said Pepper seriously, "that he's afraid if he's nice about it, people will start treating him like he's a good person."

 

**Jane Foster**

_Come down to the gym observation deck_ , said Tony's message. _It's epic_. _America's finest vs. Asgard's Champion._

This apparently translated to Steve and Thor sparring. Tony was long gone by the time Bruce made it down — or, no, it seemed he'd suited up and decided to get a little closer to the action.

Jane was the only other occupant of the observation area, working on her laptop and only occasionally glancing at the window.

Bruce watched the fight for a few minutes before he had to admit that he just wasn't that interested, and wished he'd brought his own laptop along.

Jane didn't technically live at the tower, but she was there about half the week, which was more than some of the actual residents. She said her own apartment was a lot less interesting.

"So you work for SHIELD now," said Bruce.

Jane nodded. "I know they only want me for my boyfriend," she said. "But this is the only chance I'll get to work on most of this stuff so I’m not complaining."

"I know that feeling," he said.

"You don't work for SHIELD, though."

"No, SHIELD and I get along better if we're not living together," said Bruce.

"Like my sister and I," said Jane absently.

 

**Spider-Man**

"I should warn you," Bruce pointed out, "Tony Stark doesn't take 'no' for an answer. He is a terrible nag."

"Hey. I don't _nag_. I'm persistent. And always right."

Spider-Man threw his hands up into the air. "I have a _secret identity_. I can't just move in with the Avengers!"

"So I'll give your secret identity a job with Stark Industries," said Tony.

"I might as well paint a giant target on Aunt— How do none of you have secret identities?"

"I think I'm classified?" offered Bruce.

"I have secret identities," said Natasha. "Lots of them." Clint nodded in agreement.

Spider-Man made a noise of frustration. "But how do you keep the people you care about safe?"

Awkward silence filled the room.

"I buy them expensive bodyguards," said Tony. "And/or build them battle suits."

Spider-Man slapped himself in the forehead with his palm.

Tony pointed at him. "I'm still building you a suite here. You can use it whenever you need it."


End file.
